


Lily of the valley

by I_dlovetobeknowunknown



Series: On Ice Soulmate AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon world but with soul marks, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 08:56:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19002526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_dlovetobeknowunknown/pseuds/I_dlovetobeknowunknown
Summary: Narrowed green eyes glare spitefully into the mirror as Yuri pushes up his hair and exposes his forehead, the other hand drawing each stroke out in bold, black lines.D I C K H E A Dappears in English over his forehead and Yuri lets go of his bangs, lets them drop back in place as a shout and a crash is heard from one door over. Rage curls up in his chest, disgust apparent in the contort of his face as shaky handwriting spirals down his arm.Hello?It reads,Who are -Yuri tears his gaze away from the rest as it fills up his arm, throwing the marker away and letting it roll into an unimportant corner of the room. He has no more use for it after all.





	Lily of the valley

It's nine months after his fifteenth birthday, that Yuri's soul mark finally blooms. The cool December air hits his skin, the chill biting at his cheeks and flushing them a warm pink as he rolls off his bed and stumbles onto the balcony, ripping the sheets off his body to stare down at the pain flaring up on his hip. 

 

Below his incredulous gaze, the pinprick of black unfolds to reveal white; petals unfurling to form a single Jasmine - the white blooming, blooming, _blooming_ til it takes up the side of Yuri's hip - the flower sitting bold and proud under the moonlight. 

 

There's a half bubble of laughter crawling up his throat that Yuri swallows. He doesn't need to pour through soul mark books, tediously page by page to find out the meaning of his soul mark. Nor does he have to wait to coincidently bump into his soul mate one day, or wait for the ink to move under his sink or for bruises to form to know who the other half of his soul is. 

 

He's seen the mark sitting innocuously across his hip in the midst of changing rooms, in hurried showers after practice and on bandaging bruises from falling on ice. He licks his lips, dryness overcoming his mouth.  He's seen this _exact mark_ on the pale swell of Victor Nikiforov's flesh. 

 

Victor Nikiforov, Russia's living legend - the very person Yuri has vowed to surpass. Victor Nikiforov, the airhead that left Yuri behind without half a glance - like many of the forgotten things that slip the idiot's mind on a whim. Victor Nikiforov, the person who had been waiting patiently for the  _Unconditional Love_ offered by his soul mark, ever since it had sprouted that eve on March when he himself had been fifteen.

 

Victor Nikiforov - the man who had just gotten engaged this very afternoon.

 

Yuri's eyes slide closed.  _Fuck._

 

* * *

 

 

The very first thing Yuri does after receiving this information is to make absolutely sure that he doesn't bruise or hurt himself in any way possible. There's no need to tip Victor off before its necessary. Sooner or later he's going to know, it's unavoidable with Yuri being a figure skater after all - bruises and pain come hand in hand with loving the ice. 

 

The second thing he does is tip his suitcase open, combing over for any and all bottles of foundation he has. Victor knows he has a soul mate. Soon, he'll know that his soul mate has finally reached the age of maturation and gotten their soul mark. What he doesn't need to know is  _who_ his soul mate is. Maybe, over Yuri's dead body. 

 

No doubt the idiot will be eager to know. He's spent half of his life waiting on the promise that his soul mate will love him unconditionally after all. What part of  _that_ pertains to Yuri, Yuri doesn't want to know. He's had enough trouble skating the routine that Victor gave him, shit if he knows anything about unconditional love - neither of them does. 

 

Something prickles uncomfortably under his skin, a voice whispering:  _'Maybe Victor does know now. He has the piggy after all.'_ Yuri slams his suitcase shut. Maybe that's what the mark refers to - the program that Victor has given him -  _Agape_ and not actual, well, unconditional love.

 

What is unconditional love supposed to refer to here, anyway? Yuri watching while Victor gets married to his piggy and lives happily ever after - retiring and fading from the figure skating world in marital bliss? Yeah,  _fuck that._ There's no way. This... whatever it is, is a bad joke. 

 

A tasteless one. Something stings on his neck and Yuri claps a hand over it absent-mindedly as he continues to rummage through his bags for other spare bottles of foundation. The irritation continues down his neck and towards his chest and Yuri itches it, frowning as he collects the bottles he's found and lines them up. He might be getting a rash, he's going to need to invest on some soothing lotion soon. His skin always gets extra dry around winter. 

 

He looks down and shifts his fingers, eyes widening in disbelief. "What the  _actual fuck_?" He breathes, still for a beat and then rage is slamming into him like a freight train. His hands clench uselessly at his sides, going to close and then opening because of course he can't now - his nails will bite into his skin and he can't leave any marks, can't let Victor know. 

 

Purple blossoms on his pale skin, stark against the white of his chest. A trail of hickeys form before stopping and then resuming, this time forming on the inside of his thighs. Yuri breathes, carefully through his mouth and stamps down the strong urge to murder. Those disgusting old men. It's obvious what they're up to, in the hotel room next to Yuri's. 

 

It was bad enough, staying at Yu-topia and hearing their moans through the thin walls. He thought he had escaped all that except now it's come back in the worst way, love bites marking him as Katsudon no doubt gives the birthday boy his present. Or they're celebrating the engagement. Either thought is enough for Yuri to taste vomit on his tongue, a sour taste on top of all the other shit he's discovered today. 

 

_Maybe Victor's boy toy should be called a leech instead_ , he thinks bitterly as he calculates the amount of foundation that he'll need to cover both the hickeys and the mark,  _he certainly fits it well enough._

 

And then, because the entire day has gone to hell in a handbasket anyway, he stands up and decisively grabs the permanent marker from the top of his bedstand. If he's going to have to cover and deal with all this shit, it's only fair that he gets the last laugh. 

 

Narrowed green eyes glare spitefully into the mirror as Yuri pushes up his hair and exposes his forehead, the other hand drawing each stroke out in bold, black lines. 

 

**D I C K H E A D** appears in English over his forehead and Yuri lets go of his bangs, lets them drop back in place as a shout and a crash is heard from one door over. Rage curls up in his chest, disgust apparent in the contort of his face as shaky handwriting spirals down his arm. 

 

_Hello?_ It reads,  _Who are -_ Yuri tears his gaze away from the rest as it fills up his arm, throwing the marker away and letting it roll into an unimportant corner of the room. He has no more use for it after all. 

 

He flops onto his bed and lets his pillow muffle the scream that tears its way out of his throat as ink continues to grace his skin. 

 


End file.
